A Few Words on Hair: Duo Vignette
by Jessie Shockey
Summary: Duo ponders hair


A Few Words on Hair: Duo Vignette   
  
Contrary to popular belief, I do occasionally get haircuts. Can you imagine the split ends I would have if I didn't? Well...I've still got them, but not as bad as they could be...  
  
And I don't keep it in a braid all the time because seeing my hair down is somehow intensely intimate. I keep it in a braid because if I didn't, it would get tangled on everything from the knobs on the kitchen cabinets to my fly - and yes, I speak from experience.   
  
A note to all of you with long hair, or to anyone who's even thinking of growing theirs out: Do not (and I mean NOT) ever, /ever/, under any circumstances, attempt to use an electric mixture without first making sure that your hair is well out of the way. Electric mixers are disasters waiting to happen. Again, I speak from experience.   
  
My hair has always been something of an annoyance, at least at times. I've had it yanked more times than I can count, gotten it stuck, ripped, burned, grabbed in a fight - you name it. It takes forever to wash, forever to dry, and then the tangles are all but impossible to get to get out, especially back when I was still fighting and there was no way to take it down and brush it for days at a time. There were a few years there when I thought we weren't going to make it - the lack of water on L2-V08744 made for some pretty greasy disgusting times. Head lice and fleas were a constant threat. The Father was a nut to let me keep it - should have whacked it off with a dull knife and been done with it. Probably would have saved me a lot of trouble.  
  
I'm attached to it, though. Why else would I keep it around for so long? I've gone more than ten years without more than a trim - /ten/ /years/. That's a long time. That's a lot of history. That's a lot of sad memories as well as happy ones.   
  
Looking at my hair, now, I can read it like a roadmap or a timeline of my life. Down near the ends, the last foot or so, the hair is thin and a little scraggly - flat and lifeless, really. Those were my desperately malnourished years. A lot of it doesn't quite reach that far - it's been broken off, or shot off, or burned off, or something. Most of that was while I was a Gundam Pilot, but not all. People have been shooting at me for a depressingly long time. It's thicker and healthier as it gets near the top - I can definitely tell a difference in the diameter and in the texture. It's nice to be fairly well fed and well rested, for once.   
  
So much of my life is tied up in this hair. It's a reminder of the past that I've carried with me wherever I went, regardless of how quickly I had to pack up and move or how impoverished I was or how hunted or how desperate - It would be hard to leave something behind when it's attached to your skull. It's the same hair that fell in Solo's face as he lay dying in my arms - the same hair that Sister Helen carefully braided for me, and that Father Maxwell was gracious enough to let me keep. It's the same hair I'd fidgeted with incessantly while Wufei and I were trapped together in that airless cell, knowing that Heero and Trowa were out there somewhere and that we were slowly dying, inside. The same hair that was streaked with Quatre's blood after Trowa and I rushed him to the makeshift infirmary on MO-II after the first Eve War.   
  
I can't believe I actually went through with this. It was time, though. When the first war was over, when I'd gotten my revenge for the tragedy at the Maxwell Church, I had allowed myself to put those ghosts to rest and finally stopped wearing the Father's old jacket whenever I went into battle. This is just like that. Just like that, except, if I wanted to, I could put the jacket back on again.   
  
Oh god.   
  
Solo always loved my hair. He'd play with it, sometimes, at night, while we were huddled together with the other kids for warmth. That's the real reason that I kept it this way for so long. I didn't have anything left of his. Certainly not the sort of trinket most people keep them to remind them of a dead friend. Solo loved my hair, and so I kept my hair. And his name.   
  
When he died - I was too young to be in love, I think, but I definitely loved him. More than life itself, really - if there had been some way to trade my life for his, then I would have done it in an instant. I think I still would. My hatred for the Alliance was solidified the day he died - it would have been so easy for them to save him... They could have saved everyone who died in that plague, but instead they selfishly tried to make a buck and relieve overcrowding all at once. After all, we were nothing but a bunch of homeless kids. Chances are, we wouldn't have survived more than a year, even with the vaccine.   
  
The massacre at the church, years later, was only the icing on the cake.   
  
Well, we beat the Alliance, or what used to be the Alliance before Treize's coup. I still felt hollow when it was all over, though. Sure, we'd smashed a lot of stuff. Sure, we'd saved the world. Nothing changed, though. Relena and her politician friends sure talked a good game, and Quatre certainly did his best to pitch in, but it was all on the large scale. Everyone was arguing nations, but it was the people who still needed help.   
  
It's taken two years to the date from Mariemaia's insurrection for every child in the Earthsphere or the Colonies, right down to the would-be-dictator herself, to be vaccinated against the strain of deadly virus that stole my best friend from me so long ago. Quatre's been a great help through the whole ordeal, offering funds and tons of free publicity. Heero's helped out as well, getting Relena's support for the project and through her the support of most of the major political figures in the Earthsphere. Hilde's been by my side through it all, offering her cheerful support. Sally worked out the technical aspects and headed up the team of doctors responsible for producing the vast quantities of vaccine. This project has been my baby, though, and now that it's over, I felt like I deserved a rest.   
  
Solo's ghost deserved a rest.  
  
My entire body feels lighter. My head is clearer than it has been in ages - possibly in all of my memory. It was only a few ounces, really, - not even a pound - but I can definitely feel the difference. I left the celebration of the project's success nearly an hour ago with a full three feet of hair and now, as I approach the ballroom doors, there is only a scant few inches attached to my head. The rest is wrapped tightly around my hand, braided and bound at both ends with thick, black hair-bands and ready to be handed over to the first cancer charity that I stumble on. That's a lie, actually. Some of it's on the barbershop floor, at the moment.  
  
No one notices me immediately as I enter. That doesn't surprise me in the least. I only wonder how long it will take for someone to realize that I'm me and not some stranger who's just arrived to the party. I can't help but grin as I make my way over to the buffet table.  
  
From behind me comes the sound of crystal shattering. When I turn, Quatre is staring at me with his mouth wide open. That shocked expression is almost worth the haircut all by itself. Heero is beside him, looking concerned. He hasn't noticed me yet. This should be good. I can't help but grin. From behind me somewhere, I hear Trowa say "holy crap," in a very quiet voice.  
  
Oh lord...I can't wait to find Wufei.   
  
END  
  
  
  
What inspired this mindless piece of drivel? ~_~ I'm getting a haircut. It comes down to the tops of my thighs, right now. In just a few hours it will be somewhere level with my ears. I a ficlet like this was almost required. ^_^;  
  
All the fics I've seen where Duo gets his hair cut are usually make it a traumatic experience. Granted, having mine cut against my will would have been as well. I know a Pentecostal girl who was held down and had her hair cut by two boys at a school I used to go to. She likened it to rape. You've lost something you can't really get back, and you've also lost a bit of your dignity and your control over your body.  
  
I've also seen a whole heck of a lot of stories that make Duo's hair into something sacred, though. It's always perfect, he always takes it down during sex (where it invariable "falls in a silky curtain to surround the two lovers," and never, ever gets accidentally pulled or laid on), it's never tangled, never greasy, and perfectly manageable with no split ends whatsoever. . 


End file.
